Song Fic MiniArc
by Kaihire
Summary: (Aya x Ken) COMPLETE. ch. 3 uploaded! In ch. 1, Ken thinks, and he probably shouldn't =P In ch. 2, Aya's doomy, angsty POV. In ch. 3, cuteness ensues.
1. Foolish Games

Title: "Foolish Games" - Songfic Mini-Arc, 1 of 3  
Author: Kouryuu  
Chapter: 1/3  
Status: Incomplete  
Type: drama, wry comedy, shounen-ai  
Rating: G for this chapter  
Pairing: Aya x Ken  
Warnings: Not a lemon. =P At least not yet.  
Archive: If you'd like. Please let me know where it's going. It's up on http://starry-vortex.net  
C&C: Please. If you give me constructive criticism, I will love you forever. E-mail me at lonestarfruit@yahoo.com  
Disclaimer: If I owned the bishies, they wouldn't be this confused... and they'd all be running around in yummy bondage gear. As things stand, they belong to Takehito Koyasu, Project Weiss, Media Blasters, and other people and stuff.. o.o; The song "Foolish Games" belongs to Jewel and her record label. The angst and fumbling belong to Ken. 9_9; This cruddy laptop belongs to me. Sue me, and you'll get the laptop, some Kleenex, and a baggie of Craisins. Tempting, I know.  


  


  
/You took your coat off and stood in the rain.  
You were always crazy like that.  
And I watched from my window, always felt I was outside,  
Looking in on you. You were always the mysterious one with  
Dark eyes and careless hair, you were fashionably sensitive  
But too cool to care. You stood in my doorway  
With nothing to say, besides some comment on the weather.  
Well, in case you failed to notice... In case you failed to see...  
This is my heart, bleeding before you. This is me down on my knees.  
And these foolish games are tearing me apart.  
And your thoughtless words are breaking my heart.  
Breaking my... heart.  
You're always brilliant in the morning, and smoking your cigarettes and  
Talking over coffee. Your philosophies on art,  
Baroque moved you, you loved Mozart.  
And you'd speak of your loved ones as I clumsily strummed my guitar.  
Well, excuse me, guess I'd mistaken you for somebody else.  
Somebody who gave a damn, somebody more like myself.  
These foolish games are tearing me, you're tearing me, you're tearing me apart.  
And your thoughtless words are breaking my heart...  
You're breaking my... heart.  
You took your coat off and stood in the rain.  
You were always crazy like that.../

~~chapter one~~

It was one of those nights that Ken dreaded the most. Nothing about it set it apart from any other late November night in Tokyo. It was an average weekday night, drizzly and cold, but Ken was stuck inside, looking at the angry red letters of the digital alarm clock on his dresser and waiting expectantly to hear the silence of the slow night broken by the turning of a doorknob and the sounds of his teammates returning from their mission. He hated nights when he was the only one left out of a mission. He hated not being out there, moving, feeling the adrenaline flow through his blood and rush out in a slash of his claws. More than that, he hated not knowing how the mission went. Right now, everyone could be dead. There could have been a trap, or something could have gone wrong, or--

"Shit."

Ken reached for the remote and turned on the small TV in his room, flipping to the sports channel. A soccer game was playing and he managed to get lost in it, though he was lost in a manner more morose and longing than genuinely interested in which team won. Warm brown eyes kept darting back to the alarm clock. Midnight. 1:25. 2:40. 3:15. Just before 3:30, the door downstairs opened and Ken clicked off the TV.

"...though if it hadn't been for the weather, it would never have taken us so long."

"It's alright, Youji-kun. What matters is it's over and the mission was successful."

"Yeah, I guess so. I need a smoke."

"Smoking's bad for you, Youji-kun..."

The conversation faded in as the two assassins passed the bottom of the stairwell and faded off as they moved on into the kitchen. Ken could almost see Omi reaching for the cocoa and Youji gratefully taking in his first lungfull of nicotine. Still, something was missing. Usually Aya would make some brusque comment, or Omi would ask him if he wanted anything to drink, though Aya always refused. The redhead must still be out somewhere, then. A small thread of concern wound its way through Ken's mind, and he absently wandered over to his window, looking out at the city. Visibility was low thanks to the cover of clouds and the general darkness of the late--or early--hour, but he could almost make out the lights along Tokyo Tower sparkling valiantly in the gloom. 

A movement of shadow on shadow drew his attention.

"What the hell is he doing..?"

So he talked out loud once in a while. As far as personal eccentricities went, this was something that Ken figured he could allow himself. Not that he had that much control over it. Besides, he didn't like it when things were too quiet.

The redhead had stopped on the sidewalk and was looking up into the rain, bright hair darkened and dampened by the heavy mist. His eyes were closed and, as Ken watched, he slid the trenchcoat off, the rain quickly moulding the black sleeveless turtleneck shirt to his trim body. The leather pants were going to get ruined if they spent any more time soaking. 

Ken didn't presume to guess what Aya was doing or why. Aya did Aya-ish things because he was, well, just strange like that. At last he wasn't waving that sword around or howling at the moon. In this line of work, you learned to be thankful for the little things like that. Ken couldn't help looking, though he felt in a way that he was intruding on a private moment. Aya's skin seemed to grow even more luminescent in the pale light provided by the street lamps and it took Ken a moment to realize that his skin seemed paler now because moments ago, it had been covered to some degree by blood.

That realization brought with it a shudder.

Aya lifted one black-gloved hand and ran it through his slick hair, and then his shoulders seemed to lose their brutally straight set. The trench went over one shoulder, the sword over the other, and Aya disappeared from Ken's view as he entered the building. The brunette stepped back from the window, his hands trembling the slightest bit as he set the TV remote back on the dresser. Two pairs of footsteps trailed up the stairs loudly, Omi still nagging and Youji still retorting. Both passed by his closed door without hesitation, probably assuming he was asleep, as he should well be. Two clicks as doors at the end of the hall closed, and then silence.

That was one major difference between Aya and his teammates. With the others, you could always "see" what they were doing at any given time by listening to the sounds they made. The click of computer keys as Omi wrote out a mission report, the soft scratch of a pen on paper as Youji wrote in his journal. Ken was probably the loudest of all of them, except when he was alone. At any rate, none of them were as uncannily silent as the self-proclaimed team leader. Ken was holding his breath and even so he couldn't hear a damn noise from downstairs. If someone had asked him, he would have sworn that there was no one down there. 

Anyone human would have made a noise of some sort. It was simple logic. It bothered him, the fact that he couldn't quite think of the redhead as human. He certainly didn't move or act like any person Ken had ever encountered before, and as for how he thought... well, that was just territory that he was smart enough to stay away from. It was as though Aya had this protective opaque glass wall around him, and you could look and look as hard as you wanted to, but you'd never be able to tell what was going on under that cold, impassive surface.

Maybe it wasn't just Aya's thoughts that were guarded. Even his appearance added to the general sense of isolation that surrounded him. The dark clothing, the stern looks. Those incredible, fathomless eyes that everyone seemed to comment on, fringed with dark lashes like eaves, making the amethyst shade look darker and more foreboding. Silky blood-red hair framed his pale skin perfectly and shielded those disturbing eyes even more. Unlike Ken's chocolate-colored bangs, which always seemed to fall in his eyes when it was the most inconvenient, Aya's seemed to be on perfect behavior and never disobeyed or fell out of place.

They were probably too scared to, Ken thought wryly.

All this was well and good, and Ken had lost himself in his thoughts when the door to his room swung open and the object of his contemplation stood in the doorway, his body haloed by the dim light in the hallway. The glow from Ken's bedside lamp caught the glint of a single droplet of water that made its way down an eartail, slid along porcelain skin, and was sucked in by the high collar of the turtleneck.

Ken swallowed hard.

"You're not asleep."

It wasn't a question so much as a statement with an incomprehensible note of command that seemed to permeate everything that Aya said, no matter how trivial. Ken was perched on the side of his bed and suddenly felt very underdressed in his dark green pajamas. The only casual thing about Aya at the moment was the fact that he was barefoot, but that only meant he'd kicked off his boots downstairs and tossed his socks in the creaky communal hamper in complete silence, disturbing to say the least. Ken looked down at his lap. At least he wasn't wearing the soccer-print shorts this time. Thank the gods for small miracles.

"N-no, I wanted to make sure you all got back from the mission in one piece. How did it go?"

He tipped his head to the side, and there went the bangs, falling right into his line of vision so that he had to blow them irritably out of the way.

"The rain got in the way."

Ken waited for more. More wasn't forthcoming. He started to squirm.

"Oh. Well, at least you guys are back inside where it's dry. Did anyone get hurt?"

"...not really."

Which, in Ken's dictionary of Things Aya Says That Don't Mean What He Says, meant "Someone might have lost a limb, but I didn't care enough to check, and I got stabbed/got shot/am suffering from massive internal bleeding caused by getting run over by a car. Twice." The brunette chewed on his lower lip for a moment, then hopped out of bed and grabbed a very startled Aya's arm, pulling him inside the room.

"I'll go get the kit."

"Hidaka, I'm fin--"

But Ken was already reaching into the hall closet for the large medical kit contained within. It was a big, official-looking box with a paramedic logo on the top next to the unobtrusive Kritiker seal and containd everything from cotton balls and band-aids to a defibrilator and suture needles. Needless to say, it wasn't the lightest thing ever, but Ken hefted it easily onto his bed. Frowning a little, he straightened the sheets and motioned Aya to sit down. The redhead had remained standing in the exact place that he'd been dragged to and didn't seem too happy to be moving even farther into the room, but finally perched on the edge of the bed as if he expected it to reach out and ruffle his perfect hair at any moment. Judging by the sheer mass of squishy pillows decorating one end of the bed, that wasn't all that unlikely.

"So, what's bleeding?"

Aya just glared at him, but Ken was starting to get irritated.

"Look, the faster you tell me, the faster I'll patch you up and you can be out of here and stop making the both of us miserable, alright?"

"..."

No reply, but at least the glare turned a bit more tired--which Aya must have been, by this point--and the redhead tugged his wet turtleneck off. Ken wondered for a moment how it was humanly possible that Aya's hair was not only almost dry already but had also not gotten mussed in the course of removal of said soaking wet turtleneck. Then his brain was distracted by processing the visual of Aya's bare upper body, which would have made any Greek sculptor salivate too hard to hold the chisel properly. Lithe muscle, smooth skin, not an ounce of visible fat. The only flaw in the whole picture was the long, almost surgical gash bisecting one side of Aya's upper chest, starting at the point of his right shoulder and angling down towards his sternum.

No one got hurt.

Right.

Ken sighed and opened the kit, reaching for gauze and sterile water.

"You know the drill."

They'd all taken turns in patching one another up so often that Ken fell into a sort of rhythm as he cleaned and disinfected the wound, inspected it carefully, decided that it was too shallow and minor to stitch, dabbed it with antibiotic ointment. It wasn't until he was taping the gauze down that he realized he'd never taken his turn at patching Aya up. The redhead usually preferred to take care of his own injuries, or else Youji would hold him down while Omi did the stitching. This was minor enough that Aya could have easily taken care of it himself, so why hadn't he said something along those lines? At almost the same moment, Ken came to the realization that Aya's skin was warm. Somehow he had always imagined the older assassin's skin to be as cold as it was pale, but it was perfectly warm and normal.

So much for the inhuman theory.

"Are you done?"

How long had Ken sat there, holding his hand just to the side of the neat bandages, almost exactly over Aya's heart?

"Er, yeah, I was just... uh... right."

He couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was about the gloomy man that made him uncomfortable--was that even the right term?--but whatever it was, it never failed to bring a frustrating blush to Ken's tan cheekbones. And of course, his bangs were back in his face. Being uncomfortable around a teammate was instantly processed as irritation at himself. Which just accented the blush with a mild pout.

Aya stood up abruptly, fast enough to make Ken glance up. Violet met warm brown and for a moment Ken could swear that Aya almost smiled. "You have the morning shift. Don't be late."

...or not. 

Goodnight, Aya... No, it wasn't worth it. Besides, by the time Ken got the gall back up to actually say something to that, or to at least snap at him indignantly as he usually would, Aya was gone as silently as he'd appeared, leaving nothing except for a slight depression in the comforter where he'd been sitting.

What did it matter how he acted, anyway? Aya was Aya, he didn't care about anyone or anything. Not that he was exactly a "user". He wasn't one of those people that went around taking what other people had to give. No, he was just... in his own world, a world that no one could touch.

No matter how much they cared, though they'd never admit it.

No matter how hard they tried to get his attention.

The med kit got a very violent throttling as it was shoved back into the closet. Ken cast a final look at the solidly closed door to Aya's room, then returned to his own.

~~

No way in hell was it 6:00 already. 

No. But yet... it was. Ken groaned loudly and flung one arm out of bed. It didn't quite reach the alarm, but it did knock a book off the nightstand, causing Ken to sit up with a curse and lean farther out of bed to flick the alarm off.

Ken's balance was impeccable. It helped him move things around the flower shop efficiently. It helped him ride his motorcycle without crashing it into pedestrians or hitting something solid and exploding into a ball of flaming scrap metal, even at high speeds. It told him when to shift his weight back or forward or up or sideways or just plain out of the way of whatever weapon was heading towards him on a mission.

Ken's balance didn't function until he was fully awake.

"Oof!!"

With a graceless thud, the brunette--and a sizable pile of blankets--plummeted to the floor. The pile of warm covers and groaning Ken lay still for a moment as said groaning Ken got his bearings, and then he finally stood up, promptly tripping on the blankets and slipping on the book he'd knocked over as he attempted to get his balance. 

Back on his ass on the hard, mean floor, Ken decided that it was going to be One Of Those Days.

~~

The warm scent of hazelnut coffee and the sound of quiet classical music drew Ken out of the shower and down the stairs. The air was cold against his steam-warmed skin, but he didn't mind. It would just help him wake up faster. Aya was sitting at the kitchen table in old-fashioned Japanese pajamas, more like a black martial arts outfit without a belt than the Western pajamas that Ken favored. Still, the harsh, crisp lines of the cotton contrasted with the apparent softness of Aya's skin and just made him look like one of those little porcelain dolls they sold to tourists. Aside from the makeup and whatnot. And the pink kitten coffee mug cradled in one hand didn't help the image.

Ken was contemplating Aya in terms of souvenirs.

Ken never drank coffee, since juice was just so much better, but he decided that if there was ever a morning on which he should start a habit, this was it.

"How the hell can you look so damn... awake?" he muttered, pouring himself a cup with plenty of sugar and milk. His mug was blue with a yellow duck on it. The duck was wearing a World Cup jersey. While Aya was sitting in his chair in the epitome of Zen-like composure, Ken just collapsed into his haphazardly. The chair creaked for his efforts.

"I'm awake. Therefore, I look awake."

One elegant eyebrow arched up and Ken was rewarded with a "you're such an idiot" look before Aya looked back down at his newspaper. 

Ken resisted the urge to walk around the table and calmly pour his coffee into Aya's lap. He took a steady sip--and burned his tongue--and tried again.  
"What are you reading?"

"The newspaper."

"What section?"

"Art."

"How come?"

"...There's a new exhibit of Western art at the museum. I was thinking of going. I wanted to check if it was worth the effort."

Aya liked art. That was news to Ken. Aya had also spoken more than one simple sentance. This was definitely progress of... some sort, at any rate. Aya turned the newspaper around to show Ken the front page of the art section. A drab-looking painting appeared on the cover. Ken attempted to look interested.

"'s nice."

"My sister always loved the Baroque era."

Ken blinked. Aya volunteering information about his background? He sat forward just a bit more, as though expecting the redhead to suddenly go off on a long, rambling explanation of the workings of his soul.

If that's what he'd been expecting, he was going to be sorely disappointed. Aya resumed reading the newspaper. Ken drank some of his coffee--thereby deciding that coffee was disgusting and he'd never drink it again--and started to fidget. He wasn't good at sitting still for long periods of time. Or any periods of time under the influence of caffeine. ...ok, to be fair, he just wasn't good at sitting still in general.

"So what kinda music is this?"

"Mozart."

"'s nice."

"...Do you know anything about music?"

"Well, I can sorta play a few things on a guitar, you know, some simple chords and stuff."

"..."

So much for morning conversations. 

"So what's for breakfast?"

Aya reached for the pack of cigarettes in the center of the table.

"You smoke?"

The redhead lit a cigarette and inhaled lightly. It was a strange-looking cigarette, with a dark brown wrapping paper and a much more spicy scent than Ken was used to smelling around the house, what with Youji's constant chain-smoking and whatnot.

"No."

"Oh... then what's that?"

"It's a clove."

"What's a clove?"

"Breakfast."

Ken blinked. Aya's lips curved the slightest bit at the corners.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"I don't laugh."

Ken was promptly given a patented Fujimiya death glare, just as withering as always. Alright, so maybe it hadn't been a smile. But Aya didn't have to be such an asshole the whole time.

Aya's actions gave Ken plenty to think about as they tidied up the shop and opened up. Aya went upstairs to get dressed and reappeared in plain black slacks and a charcoal-colored sweater. Ken was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. As usual, he felt underdressed. But at least, he rationalized, he was dressed comfortably. There was no way that sweater could feel good against the bandages hidden underneath.

"...to make sure that those fuschias get enough water. Do you understand?"

"Huh?"

Maybe he should have paid attention instead of staring outside. Aya stepped closer, leaning close enough that Ken could discern the various light aromas of his body: some sort of fruit shampoo, a hint of crisp rain, cloves, hazelnut, mint toothpaste. Contrasting hot and cold scents that somehow melded together into one complete orlfactory identity.

"Try to wake up, Hidaka. And one more thing..."

His words were softly spoken, his breath barely caressing Ken's skin. The brunette found himself helplessly lost in impossibly clear violet that didn't, for once, seem at all mocking. He seemed to have forgotten how to breathe for the moment. What the hell was wrong with him?

"You can stop watering the tiles."

Ken looked down. He could have sworn he'd been aiming the watering can at the little pot of forget-me-nots right in front of him. When he looked up, Aya was already back hehind the counter, tersely explaining to some girl the benefits of red over yellow roses for a celebratory bouquet. One of the blood-red blooms was immaculately balanced in his pale hands. It looked perfect, as though its beauty was only enhanced by the man holding it. The flower seemed to preen as he turned it around, seemed to catch the light and appear only more full and wonderful. The customer didn't need much convincing.

Ken found himself staring at that one stunning rose as it was tucked into an artful array of many of its kin. He watched it disappear out the door in the arms of a faceless girl. It would be enjoyed for a day or two, then cast away when it had served its purpose. It had reached its perfection and now could only aspire to gracing a gutter as a dry twig.

"Aya... Do you think our lives are sort of like... those flowers?"

He should never have tried to phrase his thoughts, but the image of that rose was sticking in his mind for some reason. The caffeine seemed to wear off all at once, leaving him feeling somber. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep.

Ken didn't expect a reply, and he'd already turned back around to trim a few stray leaves on a miniature maple when Aya's quiet words flowed across the room.

"No. We're worth less."

~~end chapter one~~  



	2. My December

Title: "My December" - Songfic Mini-Arc, 2 of 3(?)  
Author: Kouryuu  
Chapter: 2/3(?)  
Status: Incomplete  
Type: angst. Just plain angst.  
Rating: R thanks to curses and such.  
Pairing: Aya x Ken  
Warnings: Overwhelming angst, and not a lemon. =P  
Archive: If you'd like. Please let me know where it's going. It's up on http://starry-vortex.net  
C&C: Please. If you give me constructive criticism, I will love you forever. E-mail me at lonestarfruit@yahoo.com  
Disclaimer: If I owned the bishies, they wouldn't be this melodramatic... and they'd all be running around in yummy bondage gear. As things stand, they belong to Takehito Koyasu, Project Weiss, Media Blasters, and other people and stuff.. o.o; The song "My December" belongs to Linkin Park and their record label. The angst and overwhelming life doom belong to Aya. 9_9; This cruddy laptop belongs to me. Sue me, and you'll get the laptop, some Kleenex, and a baggie of Craisins. Tempting, I know.  
Comment: Ok., this chapter didn't flow the way I wanted it to, at all. It's hard not to get bogged down in doomy Aya doom. But fear not, I'm going to be switching things on and off for chapter three, and if you bear with me, you'll even get * gasp * actual cuteness and non-angst. I promise. ^_^;  


  


  
/This is my December... This is my time of the year.  
This is my December... This is all so clear.  
This is my December... This is my snow-covered home.  
This is my December... This is me alone.  
And I... Just wish that I didn't feel like there was something I missed.  
And I... Take back all the things I said to make you feel like that.  
And I... Just wish that I didn't feel like there was something I missed.  
And I... Take back all the things that I said to you.  
And I'd give it all away just to have somewhere to go to,  
Give it all away to have someone to come home to.  
This is my December. These are my snow-covered dreams.  
This is me pretending this is all I need.  
And I... Just wish that I didn't feel like there was something I missed.  
And I... Take back all the things I said to make you feel like that.  
And I... Just wish that I didn't feel like there was something I missed.  
And I... Take back all the things that I said to you.  
And I'd give it all away just to have somewhere to go to,  
Give it all away to have someone to come home to.  
This is my December... This is my time of the year.  
This is my December... This is all so clear...  
Give it all away... Just to have somewhere to go to.  
Give it all away to have someone to come home to.  
Give it all away... Just to have somewhere to go to.  
Give it all away... To have someone to come home to./

~~chapter two~~

The first snowflakes were falling on Tokyo. They crept up on the city slowly: a flake here, a flurry there, the frost slowly gathering on the edges of puddles in the street. The snow crept along the bay, fluttered by the closed store windows shut down for the night, twirled around the street lamps standing silent sentinel to the deserted streets, and finally sprinkled the whole city in a light coating of white powder.

A single pair of bootprints led in a precise line to a bench by the water. The man's straight shoulders were slightly dusted with snow, as was the bench itself. A few flakes clung to his red hair, and the only sign that he was alive and not frozen stiff in the cold night breeze was the rhythmic puff of breath appearing in front of him.

Violet eyes were upturned, trying almost desperately to see the stars through the glow of the street lamps, through the snow, through the clouds. The stars didn't change. People came and went, humanity came and went, life came and went, but the stars were always there, calmly observing, remaining distant, and paying silent witness to every new atrocity.

The man's hands were covered in black leather gloves, and they held onto the hilt of an old-fashioned sword, the blade of which was stained by blood that was slowly starting to freeze on the mirror-polished surface. The snow directly under the sword caught a few red droplets, amplified them, spread them out like dye until there was a sizable dark patch gathering.

"Abyssinian!"

Violet eyes didn't shift, remaining fixed up at the sky. The silence of the night was broken by the sounds of running footsteps approaching, the sound of a leather jacket creaking, the hastened breathing of someone who had just been performing strenuous physical activity.

"Abyssinian. We need to get out of here."

Why? Why not just stay here, wait until we're found? Why must we keep living like this?

Aya slowly looked over, his expression impassive as always as he attempted to understand what those warm, chocolate-colored eyes meant to him, exactly.

"Come on, it's too damn cold out here to be sitting around."

Ken extended his hand, and Aya looked down at it. The brown leather of the glove was transformed to a slick black from the blood splattered on it. Funny, how blood could be so neon-red one moment and so dark the next... Ken followed his eyes and yanked the glove off, muttering a quick apology and offering his bare hand.

Aya looked back up.

For a month, for more than a month now, Aya had noticed little things like that. Care that didn't need to be offered. Small considerations that didn't need to be taken. Extra smiles, even when the other man would certainly have had no reason to offer them. Those things crept into Aya's carefully frozen world, nibbled at the edges of his reality, trying to thaw some of the ice, trying to gain... something. Some sort of connection. Whatever it was, Aya doubted that Ken himself knew, because the emotions so open and present in his eyes were completely illegible, contradicted one another.

Aya hadn't spoken a word about anything to the brunette. Why would he have? He was perfectly content behind his ice, his glares, his katana. But it was starting to get to be too much, and too constant. As though he could... depend on Ken, to always be there and offering those things.

But that was impossible.

And expecting that was weak.

There was no way that Abyssinian could allow himself such simple human downfalls as trust and dependence, not unless he wanted to see his carefully-structured world fall into a million shattered shards.

It was December now, after all. The first cold month leading into another vicious winter. Aya's month. If Ken believed that the ice had started melting around the edges just because Aya never directly pushed him away, then he would just have to be shown how hard the ice freezes in the bitter months.

The redhead's lips turned into a contempt-filled grimace, though his words remained perfectly neutral.

"Why do you keep trying, Hidaka? Like a child that doesn't know when to stop."

Aya only had a moment to register the hurt, angry flash in Ken's eyes before bare knuckles connected with his cheekbone.

"Fuck you, Aya."

This was what he needed, exactly this. The knowledge that he could wound someone without exerting effort, the visual of that pain reflected in their eyes, the sting of it transmitted to his own bruised skin. This was what kept his world together. This was what kept the wall of ice solid, this was what kept Abyssinian in one piece.

And once more, he was alone with the night.

And once more, he couldn't quite make out the stars.

~~

The mission wasn't supposed to go like this. Somewhere, someone had fumbled a kill. Alarms had been sounded, security had been released. There were too many of them, and the building was too heavily armored to make escape easy. Balinese and Siberian were already outside, clearing a path to the car. Bombay and Abyssinian stood back to back, the smaller assassin taking out more distant targets, Abyssinian's sword taking out the ones that got too close.

"Abyssinian..."

Another one lunged in, and the sword sliced through yielding flesh. Aya's arms and shoulders were starting to burn from the constant strain of yanking metal through skin, fat, muscle, bone. His sword hadn't started to waver yet, but it wouldn't be long now. His reality had narrowed, allowing only the interaction between himself and his opponent. Everything else was blurry, as if he was experiencing things from behind a rain-splattered tinted windshield in a car that was going both too slow and too fast at the same exact time.

"Abyssinian, I don't have any more darts..."

Well, that had been exactly what he'd wanted to hear. Aya grimaced, blocking another attack and finally just kicking the man away before grabbing the hilt of the katana with both hands and decapitating him. A warm spray of blood hit the side of his face.

"Go out to the car. If I'm not out in five minutes, evacuate the team."

"But Abyssi--"

"You have your orders. Go."

He didn't have time to look over his shoulder, but he gave the younger man a nudge towards the cleared exit. Hesitant footsteps grew more confident as Bombay ran outside.

Amethyst-colored eyes narrowed, sizing up his opponents. Weighing their skill and audacity against his own skill and how much more his body could handle. A wince as he realized this really didn't look good, and then he was back in the fray, and he couldn't tell anymore whose blood was coursing across his skin. He could only distantly hope that the metaphorical car he was in wasn't about to get wrapped around a street lamp.

~~

The night was darker than he had remembered it being. Wait, maybe that wasn't the night. Abyssinian opened his eyes slowly, blinking snow-crystalled lashes open to gaze up at the stars so clearly visible overhead. He could see his breath misting up to blur the stars from view, fade away to let them shine through, mist up again.

It was cold, cold enough to make him wonder if maybe he should be trying to get home. He started to sit up--.. and fell back down as the pain rocketed through his body. He bit his lower lip to keep from making a sound and promptly tasted blood. He closed his eyes again, forced himself to take a few deep breaths, forced himself to focus.

Alright. His left shoulder felt dislocated. His ribs were bruised, maybe cracked, but the pain didn't feel sharp enough for them to be broken. There was a slash along his abdomen, but that was just a skin cut, maybe it nicked the muscle but it wasn't that deep. There was a deeper cut along the side of his throat, but it had missed the main vein. The rest just felt like general muscle strain, maybe small lacerations and contusions from the fighting. Nothing that should keep him from getting up and walking home.

Nothing except for the pain. No, the metaphorical car hadn't slammed into a light pole. Instead, it had collided directly with a stone wall. Grimacing, Aya got gracelessly to his feet, wincing as he leaned back down to pick up his katana. There was a large enough pool of blood in the place where he'd been lying to make Aya remove his gloves and lift up his shirt, muttering a curse at the depth of the cut angling down across his abs. That would explain why he felt dizzy. Abyssinian slung his katana over one shoulder, put his gloves back on, and started to make his somewhat limping way back towards the Koneko, not seeming to notice the bodies littering the street around him.

He got about three blocks down before he registered the fact that there was a motorcycle trailing him, no more than half a block away. He silently chided himself for not being more on guard and turned to face whoever was following him. The bike pulled up, and Ken flipped up the visor on his helmet. Deep brown eyes were about as guarded as they could be.

Aya waited in the cold night air for the younger man to say something. That was what he had come to expect: an offer of assistance that he could slap away and then grudgingly allow himself to take. But Ken just sat there, the bike engine purring, looking at Aya levelly, his eyes demanding an apology so that things could go back to the way they had been.

Another long moment, and Aya turned away, starting to limp back down the street. He wasn't going to be the one to bend to what someone else wanted, not even if it meant freezing or bleeding to death. He heard a curse behind him and Ken's angry footsteps, and suddenly he was slammed against the wall of the building he had been walking next to, face to face with Siberian in all his angered glory.

"What the fuck is your problem, Aya?"

Ken's eyes looked like polished mahogany in the dim light, reflecting every heightened emotion that the young man was feeling. Soft-looking lips were parted slightly, and Aya wondered why it was a challenge to not just continue staring at Siberian when something angered him to such a degree. A painter would kill to be able to capture such emotion, but it was so much more vivid, so much more visceral in its full dimension.

"...let go of my arm, Siberian."

Ken shook him, the gesture rocking Aya's injured shoulder into the wall hard enough to make him hiss in pain.

"Siberian is back at the flower shop sleeping. He wouldn't give a damn about you."

Violet eyes attempted to read what was going on behind those impassioned chocolate brown ones, but got lost in the maelstrom of flat-out feelings, things that Aya was used to dealing with in isolation and only when in the process of numbing them down.

"But Ken would?"

"Don't mock me. I'm in no mood to deal with you right now. Come on, you look like shit. We'll go back to the Koneko, I'll patch you up, and you can glare at me tomorrow."

It was never as simple as that.

Aya shoved Ken away, but his energy was gone, used up by just standing upright. He only succeeded in pushing his hand against Ken's solid chest. The brunette sighed, his tone softening just a fraction, though he still sounded thoroughly annoyed.

"Don't make me carry you."

"I'm not getting on that bike."

"Look, I'm just about ready to leave your sorry ass out here to freeze--"

"My shoulder's dislocated."

Ken blinked.

"Oh. Well, shit."

Aya might have given into the urge to smile had he not been so dizzy from the pain, the blood loss, the cold, the pure level of exhaustion that always came after the adrenaline of the mission had worn off. He distantly felt Ken's hands gently probing his shoulder... and then an explosion of pain would have sent him to his knees had arms not been there to catch him.

"Sorry, I figured it'd be better if I didn't warn you that was coming."

Aya didn't say anything, his forehead pressed against the cool leather of Ken's jacket, eyes closed, his breathing somewhat ragged, vaguely aware of the scent of leather, soap, Ken. He stayed still for a long moment, letting the pain fade to a dull pounding ache, then pushed himself away. Ken was looking at him, his expression unreadable save for the lines of concern.

Pride won out over exhaustion, as it always would, and Aya glared at the younger man, fully breaking contact and walking as gracefully as he could towards the bike, which wasn't very gracefully at all thanks to the stabbing pain in his ribs twisting with every step. He heard Ken utter an exasperated sigh behind him and then a helmet was thrust in his hands.

"It wouldn't kill you to smile every once in a while."

Aya looked up into the sky as he slid onto the bike behind the younger man. He would have sworn that one of the stars winked at him.

"...It just might."

~~end chapter 2~~  



	3. You Complete Me

Title: "You Complete Me" - Songfic Mini-Arc, 3 of 3  
Author: Kouryuu  
Chapter: 3/3  
Status: Complete, unless I get enough requests for a fourth part.  
Type: romance  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: Aya x Ken  
Warnings: Not a lemon. =P   
Archive: If you'd like. Please let me know where it's going. It's up on http://starry-vortex.net  
C&C: Please. If you give me constructive criticism, I will love you forever. E-mail me at lonestarfruit@yahoo.com  
Disclaimer: If I owned the bishies, they wouldn't be this melodramatic... and they'd all be running around in yummy bondage gear. As things stand, they belong to Takehito Koyasu, Project Weiss, Media Blasters, and other people and stuff.. o.o; The song "You Complete Me" belongs to Stabbing Westward and their record label. The soccer boxers belong to Ken. Ken belongs to Aya. 9_9; This cruddy laptop belongs to me. Sue me, and you'll get the laptop, some Kleenex, and a bag of Hawaiian Hazelnut coffee beans. Tempting, I know.  


  


  
/I am lost in the darkness between two worlds and here  
I'm struggling.... You're the light I've been seeking  
'Cause my whole life there's been something missing....  
Only you can make me whole,  
Just one touch and you complete me.  
Rescue me from this black hole that's sucked me in and left me dying.  
You're the truth that I've been seeking, 'cause my whole life I've been lying....  
Only you can make me whole,  
Just one touch and you complete me.  
God I pray you find me worthy of the right to stand beside you,  
And of your truth and of your passion, and of the right to sleep beside you....  
Only you can make me whole,  
Just one touch and you complete me.../

~~chapter three~~

The next morning, Aya woke to bright morning sunlight stabbing at his eyes and truly impressive levels of pain telling him that unfortunately, he had survived the night. He was on one of the two couches in the living room just off the kitchen, covered up to his chin by a throw blanket that was clean but had probably seen better days. Aya closed his eyes for a moment, trying to recall the events of the night before. Ken had pretty much half-carried him to the couch, layers of clothing had come off, blood had been washed away... Aya supposed the stitching had happened somewhere around then, and that would probably be when he'd passed out. Wincing, the redhead pushed himself up into a sitting position.

Ken was sprawled over the other couch, dead to the world, taking up more room than should have been physically possible for someone with his compact build. He was hugging a pillow as though it was his favorite soccer trophy, a blanket twisted around his legs and waist without really covering any tan skin, ridiculous soccer ball-print shorts visible under part of the blanket. Chocolate hair was mussed every which way, and Ken's face was relaxed and innocent as he slept, toned chest rising and falling steadily. It was a surprisingly difficult sight to pull his eyes away from, but somehow Aya succeeded. He decided that the younger man must have changed, then come back downstairs to watch over him. The TV was still on, tuned silently to the sports channel, which just confirmed the redhead's theory.

Aya pushed the throw blanket off and stood up. His pants were still on, but they were undone, obviously pushed down at some point so that the wound angling down his stomach could be stitched, white bandages barely contrasting with pale, firmly muscled skin. He buttoned them back up, his shoulder stiff but alright now that it was back in place. Movements slow, Abyssinian made his way to the kitchen, turning on the coffee maker and sitting down heavily at the table, still managing to be silent so as to not wake Siberian. 

Not that waking Siberian was an easy feat. Short of a nuclear attack or a land mine going off under his pillow, or perhaps someone being so cruel as to attempt taking his pillow away, not much was likely to wake up the ex-soccer star once he was deeply asleep.

A few minutes later the scent of hazelnut coffee filled the room and Aya gratefully poured himself a cup, sweetening it a bit and even adding a splash of milk to take the edge off the bitterness. Two cups and a painkiller, he was feeling much more human. The pain was still present but steady, only jarring him if he twisted too fast and pulled the stitches on his side or the carefully-taped slash on the side of his neck. 

Violet eyes wandered back to the young man on the couch as Aya sipped on a third cup of coffee. Ken had come back to take care of him after all. Even after what Abyssinian had said, even though he'd tried to push him away, he had still come back. Whether Aya liked it or not, Ken had--for some reason unknown to the redhead--made it a personal mission to be the one constant in his life. Aya looked down into the coffee mug, and his expression grew contemplative. He was stubborn, yes. But perhaps the brunette was even more stubborn.

~~

He was running across a beautifully-maintained soccer field. The other team's defense was tough, but it was late in the game and they were getting sloppy. He saw an opening, and his teammate passed him the ball. The goal was right there, and the air felt so crisp and fresh as he stretched his lungs and made the mad dash towards--

"Ken."

No, not right now, he was so close! The goalie was nervous, Ken could see that in his eyes, he'd seen the J-League's star player before when he was as determined as he was now. It was pretty much a won game, but he was going to give it his all--

"Hidaka. Wake up."

A core of him that was completely conditioned to obey Abyssinian's commands shook him awake. If it had been Yohji or Omi, they would probably have gotten a grunt and a pillow tossed at their heads for their efforts and Ken would gave scored another goal. Instead, brown eyes blinked open and Ken sat up quickly, rubbing at them to force his eyes to focus.

"Sorry. What is it? What happened?"

Aya looked almost amused, unless that was just Ken's still-sleeping mind playing tricks on him. And he looked casual, which was strange, since he shouldn't be waking Ken up unless there was some vital mission or life threat present.

"It's late." 

Oh, shit. Well, ok, so it could be a mission or a life threat or opening the shop.

"Was I supposed to open up the shop? Shit, Aya, I'm sorry--"

The readhead shook his head, cutting him off. 

"No. It wasn't your day to open. Here."

Ken stared in disbelief at a blue mug being thrust into his hands.

"Huh? What is it?"

"...Hot chocolate."

Brown eyes blinked as though Aya had just grown another head or announced that he was running off to marry Takatori.

"...Why?"

Something darker crossed over violet eyes, and Aya made to take the mug back.

"I had assumed you would want some."

Ken quickly snatched the mug, mentally smacking himself for being a doof.

"No, no, I do! Thanks!"

He grinned brilliantly and took a hesitant sip, half-expecting the cocoa to be bitter and dark and boiling hot. Instead, it was perfectly sweet and just hot enough, and mahogany eyes widened in surprise to note that not only did it have marshmallows floating in it, but was topped off with whipped cream. Ken was suddenly in utter chocoholic bliss.

"This 's good!" He started gulping down the sweet liquid.

Amethyst eyes were practically dancing with silent laughter, and Ken tipped his head to the side, soft bangs instantly falling into his eyes as he paused in draining the mug.

"Mou, what's so funny?"

"You have whipped cream on your nose."

Ken quickly rubbed his nose on the back of his hand, attempting to get at the offending stuff.

"'s it gone?"

Aya shook his head, the smile spreading from his eyes to ever so slightly tug at the corners of his mouth.

"Dammit..."

A perfectly white handkerchied materialized in the redhead's hand and he reached out, dabbing at the younger man's nose. Ken frowned and tried to look at it, his eyes crossing as he scrunched his nose.

"There."

Aya pulled the napkin away and was rewarded with a dazzling smile. Ken had no idea why Aya would actually go out of his way to do something nice for a teammate, but it was definitely progress of some sort, and definitely to be encouraged.

He finished off the contents of the mug, keeping the warm ceramic cupped in his hands because it was nice and warm. Brown eyes looked up, noticing that he had somehow moved closer to Abyssinian in the process of enjoying the cocoa. All of the bandages he'd applied last night were still white instead of stained with blood, which was definitely a good sign. Aya shifted his weight on the couch, and Ken looked back up from contemplating the flat planes of Abyssinian's abs---

Ken never would have guessed that Aya's lips could be quite so soft and warm. Wait, Aya's lips? The hell?! Brown eyes widened and Ken pulled back, meeting an equally shocked/dazed pair of amethyst.

"You--.. you -kissed- me!"

Aya scowled.

"I did no such thing. -You- kissed -me-."

"No I didn't!"

This was going nowhere fast. Ken blushed an interesting shade of pale coral, Aya looked ruffled, neither really knew what to say. An uncomfortable pause and some squirming later, Ken stopped throttling the mug.

"Ne, Aya---"

Ok, this time it was distinctly Aya who initiated the kiss. Ken made a somewhat muffled sound of protest but was far too stunned to pull away. Cocoa and coffee meshed as Abyssinian gently deepened the kiss, and brown eyes closed. Granted, it was a strange prospect to be making out with the guy who ran around screaming "Shi'ne" and whatnot, but that was just a distant confused note buzzing somewhere in the back of Ken's mind. What was much more distinct was the soft pressure of Aya's lips on his, the intoxicating taste of the redhead's mouth, and the startling gentleness of the whole endeavor.

~~

He had no clue why he'd kissed Ken. Perhaps it was because the moment had been too uncomfortable, or because it seemed as if the first kiss that had happened would be incomplete without a second one. Maybe it was something that went deeper than that into parts of Abyssinian that had been pushed away and locked down for too long. At any rate, Aya didn't regret his actions, one pale hand hesitantly lifting to tangle in incredibly silky chocolate-colored hair. The fact that Ken was responding to the kiss rather than pulling away was a blessing, and the tiny, unconscious sounds of approval it was drawing from the brunette's throat were pulling Aya into a zone that he hadn't ventured into since he'd decided to lock himself away from any and all emotions.

It could have been seconds or minutes for all the redhead noticed but finally he broke the kiss, his hand dropping away from its hold on Ken's hair.

~~

Tingly. Were your lips supposed to get that tingly? Sort of like you were just laughing for a long time and it felt weird not to still be smiling, only warmer and more distinct than that. Brown eyes blinked open. Aya was looking at him, but it wasn't the usual guarded expression. He just looked... curious, and almost apprehensive, waiting to see what Ken's reaction would be.

Ken didn't really know how he was supposed to react. He blinked a few times.

On the one hand, Abyssinian could just be messing with him. The brunette had been hanging around too much, after all, and maybe this was just a cruel way to shove him away. But the kiss didn't feel like that at all.

On the other hand, why would Aya have any reason to actually mean any of the things that the kiss seemed to imply? Maybe it was just a one-time deal and now he'd walk away and expect things to go back to normal, but Ken would feel weird from that point on whenever he looked at the older man.

Or maybe Aya actually... trusted Ken, and wanted to try establishing some sort of interaction with another human being?

Ever the optimist, Ken grabbed desperately onto the last thought. It was a dangerous flaw, his ability to trust so deeply. It had stabbed him in the back with the whole Kase situation, and it had stabbed deep, but trust was such an ingrained part of the brunette's nature that it was very difficult for him to keep himself back from a situation. In this case, he knew he should remain more guarded until he knew what was going on in Aya's head, but at the same time, being guarded would probably dent whatever tentative trust Aya had started to place in him. It was all or nothing.

Decision far from made, Ken finally just reacted, grinning and pulling the unsuspecting redhead into a rather exuberant hug. Aya's body tensed and Ken hesitated, wondering if he'd been completely wrong. He started to let go, and just then Aya relaxed into the hug, his own arms wrapping around Ken's waist.

"...ne, Aya..?"

The redhead didn't respond, obviously getting reacquainted with the feeling of holding and being held. How long had it been for him since he'd actually allowed himself to touch someone else?

"Aya?"

"....shut up, Ken."

The brunette grinned. Alright, so it wasn't going to be exactly smooth sailing and an instant personality reversal on Abyssinian's part, but for a start, this wasn't so bad.

"...Why the hell do you wear soccer-print boxers?"

Not so bad at all.

~~end chapter 3~~

//end of SongFic Mini Arc// 


End file.
